Glen Canyon and Paria Canyon Areas

Horseshoe Bend in Glen Canyon

June 4 – Waking up on Arizona time is kind of a shock. The sun pushed through the thin walls of my tent, prying my eyes open before the alarm. I had decided to stay another night and needed to pay before heading out for my hikes in the morning, so I planned to get up by 6:30. When I checked my phone for the time, it was a little after five and the sun was full up.

Since Arizona has taken a moral objection to Daylight Savings time, everything is off-kilter here. This is exacerbated by the fact that we’re right on the border, so if a person drives a little way on Highway 89, she enters Utah and it’s an hour later. I’ve noticed some businesses on the 89 corridor have clocks that state both times. My cell phone couldn’t seem to decide which cell tower to pull from either, and the second morning at the campsite, my alarm went off twice – at 5:30 a.m. Utah time and 5:30 a.m. Arizona time.

But this morning, my phone only registered Arizona time, and so my timing was right to be dressed and ready to go when the campground office opened at 7 a.m. After paying for the second night, I set off to do a number of small hikes in the area, and to visit the BLM office near Kanab for trail information. This is the same office where Jesse and I secured our Wave permit, so I was eager to revisit it. I also knew they had a lot of information about area hikes, specifically Buckskin Gulch, one I’ve been interested in since we hiked the Wave in 2011.

Knowing the temperature would reach into the 90s, I decided to hike first and talk later. After a few stops in town for coffee, ice, and water, I drove out to Horseshoe Bend. Just outside of Page, Arizona, this is a short hike, only a mile and a half long. Much of the hike is on sandy ground and it has some elevation gain in that short distance, but it’s not what I would call a strenuous hike. And therein lies the issue.

I knew I was in for a crowd when a tour bus turned in just before I did. Sure enough, a whole load of Asian tourists poured out, and I knew I’d have to create my own mental space to enjoy the hike and the view. I mention that they are Asian because it amazes me, when I’m traveling in the west like this, how many of the tourists I run into are Asian or European. Sometimes they are Australian or South American too, but very few are American. The people who took my picture here were a father and daughter from Norway, and the ones who took my picture later in the day at the Hanging Gardens were a mother and son from Great Britain (however she was from Argentina originally).  It is so interesting to talk to these people and to hear briefly about their travels.

So I joined the crowd and hiked out to the rim of this beautiful Glen Canyon to see the Colorado meandering along, deceptively gentle in its flow at this point. The river was always slower through Glen Canyon, even before the dam was built, with this calm stretch between the famous rapids of Cataract Canyon and the Grand Canyon. That is one of the reasons planners thought it was a good idea to dam it here.  When you see the depth and beauty of this canyon, it brings home the tradeoff that was made between destroying a good part of one of the greatest geological formations on earth and supplying water to a growing, greedy population of humans. No easy answers are to be found here – human needs of course are important, but so are the needs of the earth. This seems to be one of the paramount questions of our time with the Earth’s exploding population and our dwindling resources and wild places. I certainly can offer no answers. I just know it breaks my heart to see what we humans are doing to the planet that is irreparable. Maybe we could get along with fewer golf courses in the desert and fewer conveniences like disposable water bottles and a new outfit for every day.

 

After this short hike I headed for the BLM office for more hiking ideas. The drive runs for a while along Lake Powell, the result of the canyons and tributaries flooded by the Glen Canyon Dam.  Water levels have dropped from their highest point years ago, and the regression of the water level is evidenced in the white mineral deposits left by the flood water on the re-exposed rocks. I was told that the water is down around 35 meters from its highest point, less than half full, and it is doubtful it’ll ever rise again to its full level. The town of Big Water is not on the water any more, and what looked once to be a marina is now just boat storage.

Past the drying lake, the terrain changes to red cliffs and mountains. It is there that the BLM office is located. I had no problem finding it  – I remember exactly how it sits on the land and how the approach looks. When we were here before, it was my first hike ever, and it changed my life. The people working in there this year were just as helpful as the ones three years ago, and they gave me great advice for the next day’s hike at Buckskin Gulch. We talked some about how dangerous this part of the world is to hike in, discussing the three people who died last year hiking the Wave and the one who died a little farther north hiking to some slot canyons in Escalante National Monument. I have hiked both those routes, and know how confusing it can be trying to find the trail. I’m so glad I have learned more about reading compasses and maps and I have a good GPS.

            The ranger told me there’s already been a guy this year who had to be rescued from the Wave hike. He obtained his permit illegally – a friend of his had gotten the permit and couldn’t make the hike so gave it to him. The guy, of course, didn’t get the instructions hikers are given when they get the permit, and he took off unaware of some of the confusing elements of the hike. The rangers saw his car in the parking lot for the trailhead, but had no idea of who he was or what route he had taken since he didn’t have a legal permit. They searched for two days before finally finding him. He had fallen off of an outcropping and was in a bush, legs in the air, with ants crawling all over his face. The rescued him and he survived, but what a horrifying experience it must have been. I keep thinking of those ants . . .

            I DO NOT intend to be a cautionary tale rangers tell hikers, so I chose a route I felt safe to take alone. A 24-year-old volunteer ranger had just come back from backpacking a large loop that included the hike I wanted to do, so he suggested where to go in (Wire Pass) and which route to follow for the best hike. His advice would give me a six-miler, and that was just what I wanted. This gave me a game plan for the following day, but his advice didn’t stop there.

            I told them I wanted to do another short hike this day, so he suggested another short mile and a half hike – The Toadstools. By this time it was the hottest time of the day.  He suggested, to use time until it cooled a bit, I drive up to the Paria (pronounced Pa-ree-uh) Township, a ghost town and once the filming site of many western movies. He said the drive was beautiful, so I decided, again, to follow his advice.

            It was a beautiful drive. I stopped to eat lunch at the site, surrounded by cliffs of various shades of reds, pinks, oranges, and grays. I had the world to myself, and I tried to imagine living a life out there, threatened daily with heat and Indian attacks. In fact, the town was abandoned in the 1800s because its inhabitants couldn’t defend against the attacks. (Perhaps this is a good example of karma and turn about being fair play.) But still, those people worked hard to try to carve a life out of an unforgiving yet stunning landscape, and they did succeed for a while.

            When I squatted to take a picture, I had a sharp pain in my knee – a pain I’d noticed when I got up in the morning. I decided to drive in to Kanab and see if I could get in to see a chiropractor. In Kanab, after asking the advice from a local, I visited one of the two chiropractors in town. He happened to be between appointments and was familiar with the type of muscle or fascia release my therapist in Sioux City does, and he worked me over. My knee was indeed out of place, so he released my muscles and adjusted my knee. He gave me some exercises to work on the muscles that had caused the problem, and it was much better by the next morning. Funny how the universe gives us what we need when we need it. And I was quite relieved it wasn’t some sort of tear.

 

            I hiked two more short hikes that day – the Toadstools and the Hanging Gardens. Both were less than two miles each, and my total hike for the day gave me the five miles I’m hoping to hike regularly as I develop my trail legs for the JMT. The Toadstools are an easy, fun hike over some slick rock and along a few ledges, and there I visited briefly with a family from Mexico, the only other people I saw on the hike. I drove straight from that hike to the Hanging Gardens for a ranger-guided short hike. There I enjoyed the ranger’s informative discussion of the area, the canyon, the lake, and some of the geological features of the land. I met the mother and son from Great Britain I mentioned earlier and was fascinated to hear they were just winding up a six-month holiday. I thought I took long holidays.

            Returning to my tent, I showered quickly and bedded down early. I was set to get up early the next day and tackle Buckskin Gulch. 

The wash, before hitting the canyons

               June 5 – After waking up an hour earlier than I’d intended thanks to my cell phone deciding to pick up Utah’s tower at that moment, I packed up and headed for Buckskin Gulch. 

Mostly lizards, but a few others

              I reached the trail head around 8:30, and was on the trail a little before 9 a.m. Don’t ask me why it took me so long to get there, I just took more time than I’d planned breaking camp and stopping in town. So I knew the end of the hike would be hot again, and I mentally prepared for it.

            It was a beautiful morning. Still in the upper 60s when I began, the sun was bright but not too hot yet. The trail was obvious and easy to follow; it basically followed an obvious wash into the slot canyons. The only hardships were having to first climb down some areas and then, on the return hike, climb back up them. I’m glad the chiropractor had put my knee back in place – it would have been extremely hard if I hadn’t been able to fully bend it. Climbing back up was hard enough with fully functioning knees – I was glad no one was there to see me ungracefully struggling up and over the rocks. It wasn’t pretty I’m sure as I teetered on the edge of the rock, pulling my body up and over like an ungainly turtle. But, I made it, and that’s all that matters.

Climbing this was tough

            But the rest of the hike was easy walking. There was about a mile of sandy hiking toward the turn around point, and my gluts got a good workout, but there were no real changes in elevation to contend with. And although it was hot at the end, it wasn’t unbearable. For a six-mile hike in the Utah desert, I couldn’t ask for more.

Trying for a slot canyon selfie

        

          The slot canyons were beautiful. I have hiked some before – last year in Escalante, not too far from Buckskin Gulch, I hike through two canyons. They too were wonderful. It’s amazing what a beautiful sculptor water is, carving those lovely curves in the multi-colored rock, and then combine that with the way the sun lights them as it passes over the narrow gap at the top and the effect is stunning. I stopped over and over to take pictures, and still it’s hard to really capture the beauty. These slot canyons can be deadly though – that water that sculpted the designs could sweep a hiker off her feet, dashing her against the walls and drowning her in minutes. A person never wants to be caught in a slot canyon in the rain.

 

            As I was finishing the hike, I ran into two couples whom I advised when they had questions about the trail and the hike. It was kind of cool to be the one who could give the answers instead of only having questions. I guess I am getting some experience under my belt now. Or should I say under my boots.

            I found a campsite in Kanab early and showered right away. It felt good to be clean and in town for a night. I also treated myself to Mexican food for dinner, which was wonderful, and planned on my favorite Mexican food restaurant for breakfast the next morning. I felt like I was living a life of leisure - I didn’t have to cook and when I got back to the campsite, I had WiFi and full cell reception. But I noticed the nights are a lot hotter in town than they are out of town; I suppose all that asphalt and concrete brings the temperature up.

            I love this part of the world, and I feel at home here. The days are hot, the hikes exhausting, and the sun relentless, but the beauty and energy of the landscape always calls to me. I am a little sad to be moving on, but I am grateful for the time I’ve been able to spend here.